Chronicles of the Consular: An Alphabet Story
by thievinghippo
Summary: The life of Fraeja, Jedi Consular, starting with her arrival at Jedi Temple, told through short stories.


Strange, how after all these years, seeing two moons in the sky still felt _alien._

Almost ten years had passed since Fraeja left Csilla and she still missed the way the cold seeped into her veins, keeping her alert and on guard. She missed the stark beauty of the glaciers and the bustle of the underground cities.

And most of all, she missed the moons.

Millennium ago, the moons over Csilla were worshiped, before the power of the Force was discovered. These days anyone who still followed the old ways were scoffed at, even when the moons were celebrated. Fraeja remembered attending one festival, watching the dancers with awe on her face, thinking she could think of no finer future than one involving dance. Her parents encouraged her interest, providing lessons and hours to practice.

But then she discovered the Force and the path of her life changed. She still loved the moons, though. That hadn't changed.

The moons on Tython were perfectly adequate. But they simply didn't inspire her soul like the ones on Csilla. Fraeja looked up at the sky - only one moon could be seen - and sighed. Silly hope, she knew, thinking she could look at a satellite orbiting a planet and feel renewed. Instead, weariness settled over her body like a second skin. She knew the path of a Jedi would be difficult, impossible, almost, but she never realized just how damn tired she'd be all the time.

Her muscles ached from her fight with the droids, ancient ones with no right to claim Kaleth, yet they fought for their Master, gone now for thousands of years. Their loyalty was admirable, yet incredibly frustrating. But she had triumphed, the First Blade her reward.

Now she could go back to the Temple, speak briefly with Master Yuon, before slipping away for a hot bath and warm meal. Then she'd curl up in her cot, reading the latest _Adventures with Gavrun, Jedi Knight_ novel. No one knew she read those books — the embarrassment would be horrible if the truth came out — but she loved them. They allowed her to escape into a world where everything was black and white, good always triumphed over evil, the way she found never happened out in the real galaxy.

Fraeja lifted her robes and started on the beaten path towards the Temple. She should probably go to the small encampment nearby, let Master Till'in know she had come to no harm, but this way would be faster. Her mind taunted her, _short cuts make long delays_, but she ignored the voice_._ Pausing, Fraeja took one last look at Kaleth, debating once more whether to go to the encampment, and simply take a speeder back, when she heard the cry.

The cries grew stronger. Fraeja stopped and looked for the source. These were not the cry of a human child. They were fierce and shrill and she felt them pierce her core. She took a tentative step towards a large bush, preparing herself for what she might find. And there she saw a dead Flesh Raider, holding a baby.

Fraeja took a breath and forced down the fear she felt beginning to seep into the pores of her blue skin. _There is no emotion, there is peace, _she reminded herself. Even without emotion, she could mourn the loss of life in front of her. She wondered where the Flesh Raider planned to go, a mother trying to protect her child. The only possibility Fraeja could think of was the Temple. Perhaps the mother hoped for a better life for her child.

A child which looked to be on the brink of starvation. Not much was known about the Flesh Raiders, but they did know one reliable way to deal with them: by controlling their food. The only source of substenance Fraeja had in the pockets of her robes was a field rations bar. Kneeling down, she unwrapped the bar and offered it to the baby. The child sniffed it once, it's too large eyes blinking slowly, before swatting the bar away and crying even louder.

Fraeja couldn't even tell how old the baby might be or even the sex. She simply didn't have enough information about the Flesh Raiders.

No one did.

Tython was the Flesh Raiders' home, long before the Jedi and the Twi'lek pilgrims arrived. And yet both group were shocked and amazed that the Flesh Raiders might organize to defend themselves and try to take back their land. They used weapons, wore armor, yet were considered primitive.

But none of these thoughts would feed a starving baby. Fraeja stilled, trying to contemplate what to do when she heard the hooves of a Guid_. _She would not relish taking one life to save another's, but this child needed to be fed.

Thankfully, the guildstood in the field by itself, no others of it's kind to defend it. Fraeja closed her eyes and let the Force wash over her. With a wave of her hand, she projected a nearby rock at the Guid,knocking it out. Then with a quick double strike, she landed the killing blow. Kneeling next to the animal, Fraeja used her Lightsaber to carve out a chunk of flesh for the baby to eat. Raw meat would nourish the child quickly.

But then what? Taking the child back to the Flesh Raiders wouldn't work; they'd kill her the moment she stepped into the camp holding one of their young. Leaving the baby here didn't seem like a better option, not with Guidand ancient war droids running around. And then she remembered. Master Quilb, of course!

He had gained quite a reputation for taking in all sorts of wounded animals. Wingmaws and Manka Cats, even a Horranth Matriarch and her young once, she had heard. As Fraeja fed the meat to the baby, who ate hungrily, she decided that was the best course of action. She would offer the child to Master Quilb and he would know what to do.

* * *

Many years had passed since Quilb had held a child this young. In his youth, he always longed to be a father, but gave that dream up when his connection to the Force was revealed. Instead he tended the weak and helpless animals of this world.

"I've come to see the child."

Master Satele Shan stood in the doorway. Quilb sensed an uneasiness in her shoulders and the curve of her back. Trouble surrounded her like a cloak. "Of course, Master," Quilb said. "She is sleeping now."

"She?" Shan asked.

"Yes, a female, from what I can tell," Quilb said. "Healthy, too."

Shan walked up to him and stroked the baby's cheek. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Let this child be raised in the nursery. I sense the Force in her, however weak," Quilb said. "I heard the Padawan who gave me this child brought another Flesh Raider to the temple?"

Closing her eyes, Shan nodded. "A Force user. The Padawan's choice was to kill the beast or to offer it training."

"These are no beasts, Master," Quilb said gently. "We can no longer pretend otherwise."

"The Force opened our eyes these past few days," she said, patting the baby on the back. "Perhaps there are other Flesh Raiders who desire peace."

Quilb held the child closer, sensing Shan's agreement to his plan. The child would grow strong in the nursery and learn the way of peace and the Force. Perhaps one day, she could return to her people and broker a peace so desperately needed.

But first, Quilb thought as he fed the baby a chunk of raw beef, she needed a name.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Welcome to my grand experiment! Eight swtor classes, eight alphabet fics. I'll be using these as writing warm-ups and ways to practice certain things. I figured someone else out there might like to read them as well. I'll be updating as inspiration hits. Thank you for reading!


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